


Hey Angel, In the Show

by richietoaster



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, mentions of Stan, reddie banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richietoaster/pseuds/richietoaster
Summary: Merry Christmas, everyone! A little something i whipped up almost impulsively, a gift from me to you <3





	Hey Angel, In the Show

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! A little something i whipped up almost impulsively, a gift from me to you <3

“What did you ask Santa for Christmas?” **  
**

The leaves crunch beneath Eddie and Richie’s feet as they walk. A giggle escapes Eddie’s throat. He taunts, “You still believe in Santa Claus?”

“Of course not. But  _I_  still write to him in hopes that one day I’ll get the will to live. That’s what I asked him for. What did you ask for?”

Eddie ignores him, “Richie, shut up. That’s not funny.”

Richie slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, “Your mom thinks I’m funny.”

“Funny looking, maybe.”

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you?”

Eddie smiles in his friend’s direction. “Of course I do. Because I am.”

Richie shakes his head. “This is why you’re my favorite,” he doesn’t say anything after, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, trying to warm them up.

“Your favorite?”

“Yeah,” Richie shrugs, thinking of what to say next, but his mind draws a blank. “Yeah,” he repeats.

“Okay.” Eddie shifts closer to Richie, “Where are we going again?”

“We’ve got to stop at Stan’s and pick up my spare key. It broke in half when I tried to unlock the front door.”

“Right, right. Dumbass.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault,” Richie protests.

“I’m sure..” Eddie isn’t. “Anyway, why couldn’t we have taken your truck? It’s like.. Negative asshole degrees outside.”

“Stan only lives right down the street. Besides, it’s getting dark, the neighbors will be turning their lights on soon. Don’t be a bah-humbug, look at the lights.”

“I’m not a bah-humbug, thank you very much.” Eddie huffs, “I just rather not be freezing my ass off.”

“Want me to warm it up for you?” Richie leans in Eddie’s space, jokingly.

Eddie laughs, pushing him away. “You’re disgusting.”

“Disgusting, sure. The love of your life? Probably.” Definitely. He’s definitely the love of Eddie Kaspbrak’s life.

Eddie looks at Richie and doesn’t say anything. He hopes that Richie hasn’t caught on to his lack response. He coughs to try and cover up the silence that’s fallen between them, “Let’s just get your stupid key. I’m cold and I want hot chocolate. Will you make me some when we get home?” Home. Eddie doesn’t even live there. He’s got his own small apartment. But if he’s honest, he might as well live with Richie. He’s at Richie’s more than he is at his own.

“Sure, bug.” Richie pinches Eddie’s cheek, “Only because you’re so cute.”

Eddie doesn’t smack his hands away.

* * *

 

The two get back to Richie’s apartment a mere half hour later, Eddie insisting on rushing back, so they could be on time to watch Rudolph together.

“Here,” Richie says softly, handing Eddie a mug of hot chocolate. “It’s the kind with the peppermint flakes added in. I know you like it better than the original.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat, “thanks, Richie.”

Richie sits next to him, turning the television on, switching the channel to Freeform, their show only just starting. He shifts his position, laying his head in Eddie’s lap, trying not to watch him instead of the TV. Eddie’s hand almost instinctively moves to Richie’s hair, tangling his fingers in it, playing with the curls.

“You know what I don’t get?” Eddie asks, minutes later.

“What’s that?”

“If Santa knows everything, why didn’t he know that Rudolph was getting bullied?”

Richie snorts, “Santa isn’t God.”

“He might as well be if he’s going to sneak into my house.”

Richie rolls his eyes, fixating them back to the Christmas program.

* * *

 

“Eddie, wake up.”

Eddie’s eyes shoot open and he sits further up on the couch, yawning. “What time is it?”

A pause.

“Almost two-thirty.”

“We slept through Rudolph?” Eddie whines, his shoulders slumping.

“I guess we did,” Richie says. He stands up and walks to the window, stretching. “Hey, Eds. It’s snowing, come look.”

Eddie blinks, standing up slowly. He pads over to Richie, staring out the window. “It’s so peaceful,” he comments.

“The snow?”

“Yeah. Especially when you wake up in the middle of the night and see it suddenly covering everything.”

Neither of them move, but then suddenly Eddie is grabbing his coat off the back of one of the chairs at the island in the kitchen, shoving his feet into his shoes, and bolting to the door.

“Eddie, where are you going?”

“Going to play in the snow, duh.”

Richie watches Eddie fling the door open, nearly falling down the steps. He laughs and puts his own coat and shoes on, following Eddie outside and shutting the door behind him. The sky is dark, no stars in sight, just snowflakes falling around them.

Eddie’s in the front yard, making snow angels. “Come on, Richie!”

“You’re crazy,  Eds!” Richie calls back. He watches Eddie sit up and turn around. “What?”

“Come join me,” and before Richie can reply, Eddie’s drags him further into the yard..

“You’re crazy,” he repeats.

“No, I’m not. I’m just having fun,” Eddie bends down, picking up a handful of snow, the street light illuminating his face, showing off his smirk. He’s slowly balling it in his bare hands.

Richie’s eyes widen, “What are you do-”

The ball hits him on his chest.

“Alright,” Richie says, leaning down to grab some snow. “You’re fuckin’ dead,” and suddenly he’s chasing Eddie, throwing snowball after snowball at him, missing him every time.

“This is why you didn’t make the baseball team, Richard! You suck at throwing balls!”

Richie grunts, extending his arm to take hold of Eddie’s waist, throwing him into the snow. Eddie grasps onto Richie’s forearm before he falls, and the taller boy topples onto him.

“You suck at throwing balls,” Eddie says again, softly. And as quick as Richie had fell, the atmosphere changes between them just as fast.

“So I’ve been told.” One of Richie’s hands is buried in the snow, next to Eddie. The other one reaches up to brush some snow off of his cheek.

“You’re on top of me.” Eddie says, seeing the look in Richie’s eyes change.

“Okay,” Richie nods, “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie doesn’t tell him to move. He doesn’t want him to move.

Richie’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips for a split second, and then back to the other boy’s, searching for anything that could deter him from kissing him in this very moment. Eddie’s eyes are curious and inviting.

“You’re beautiful, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie whispers.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “That’s you,” and snakes his hand up to Richie’s neck, pulling him down gently. He presses his lips to his friend’s, a feeling of warmth spreading inside of him, despite the snow seeping through his pajama bottoms.

They kiss long and slow, ignoring the cold, not wanting to part from one another, not wanting to stop.

“Let’s go inside,” Richie says against Eddie’s mouth.

“Yeah, okay.”

“There’s a nice, warm, blanket that’s folded on the couch and it’s calling our name,” Richie grins, standing up, pulling Eddie up with him. He intwines their fingers.

“What’s it saying?” Eddie bemuses.

“It’s telling me that we should cuddle and kiss some more.”

Eddie smiles, turning his head to press a chaste kiss to Richie’s clothed shoulder. “I think we should.”

“I think so, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> richietoaster.tumblr.com


End file.
